


try something new

by minyardhoes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Vibrators, theres some fluff :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 22:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardhoes/pseuds/minyardhoes
Summary: Andrew reaches one hand into the bag and pulls out something. At first, Neil has got no idea what he’s looking at, but it clicks into place after a few long seconds. A vibrator.





	try something new

**Author's Note:**

> what even is this im sorry

It is late one night, when Neil is half asleep on the couch, when Andrew says, “I want to try something.”

 

He turns his head so he is looking at Andrew, feeling the familiar sluggishness which comes with fatigue. Andrew looks tired too, but there’s a lively spark to his gaze which sends thrills down Neil’s spine. The words have a sort of finality with them that comes when Andrew is one hundred percent sure of something; suddenly, the long silences in the car journey make sense. Whatever he wants to try, he must have been mulling it over for ages. That makes it better. Neil tames the little dart of excitement in his stomach and sits up straighter.

 

“Okay.”

 

An annoyed look is sent his way. “You don’t even know what it is.”

 

“I like surprises. The last surprise you gave me was …” Neil trails off, vividly remembering how Andrew had squirted whipped cream all over his body and licked it off, agonisingly slowly until he reached Neil’s cock. Several passionate adjectives flick through his mind before he settles on, “Fun.”

 

Andrew just sighs and carries on watching whatever is on. It’s a confusing show with a long storyline and a bunch of boring characters, but Andrew seems interested enough, and Neil’s never going to tell him to stop liking something. If Andrew is interested, his hazel eyes adopt a sharp, deep look like they do when he is analysing something.  Neil thinks it’s cute - or as cute as Andrew can be, considering he still keeps knives in his sleeves.

 

Those knives have been discarded since they stepped into the house. Neil finds himself swelling with warmth at that thought.

 

“All I need is some coffee,” Neil adds, just as another yawn rolls over him. “I’ll be ready then.”

 

Just as he goes to stand up, a hand shoots out to stop him. Unless Neil’s exhaustion is beginning to affect his sight, Andrew looks almost amused at his devotion, but annoyance resumes it’s familiar place, clouding over anything else.

 

“I don’t mean now.”

 

“Oh.” That makes sense. It is late. “Right, sure.”

 

“After all,” Andrew says, tugging Neil back down, closer to him than before, “we do have all weekend.”

 

Fingers brush an errant lock of his hair back. Neil falls asleep with his head on Andrew’s thigh.

  
xXx

  


The next morning, Neil wakes with five words ingrained into his mind.

 

 _I want to try something_.

 

He glances over to Andrew’s still-sleeping figure, his weight a pleasant dip in the mattress. A glance at his phone tells him it’s late. Most mornings, he would have woken three or four hours ago and gone for his daily run. But Colombia is an exception. This place is some perfect bubble. Maybe it’s the silence. There’s no cheering or arguing or laughter. He doesn’t have to worry about anybody bursting through the door, doesn’t have to worry about their solace being shattered.

 

By the time he has replied to his texts, Andrew has stirred. Andrew is different in the mornings, somehow softer when consciousness hasn’t quite reached him. He reaches for Neil’s bare chest and looks at him with bleary eyes, searching for any sign of a no to the touch.

 

Neil likes this new rule which was established a few months ago: _it’s a yes until it’s a no._ Andrew had asked one last time, voice low and gravelly, that question familiar to both of them. Once Neil had responded _yes_ with more vehemence than he thought he possessed, Andrew had left it behind them, unlocking the next few tentative steps of trust.

 

Obviously, the questions stills comes around, but only for big things. This isn’t big anymore. Andrew can touch Neil, serene in the knowledge that it is wanted.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Morning,” Andrew mumbles, hair sticking up from where he’s slept on it.

 

A few idle minutes slide past. Neil’s thoughts take a dirty twist when Andrew’s finger diverts it’s path and brushes over his nipple. It’s done on purpose. When Neil shivers, satisfaction glimmers in the eyes staring at him.

 

“You, uh … you said -” Neil chokes on his words when Andrew does it again, more confident this time. “You said there was something you wanted to try.”

 

“Did I?” Andrew says.

 

Andrew’s mouth tastes stale from sleep as he kisses him, running his teeth over Andrew’s bottom lip in a reminder that he _wants_ it.

 

“Yes. Last night. You said we could try it today.”

 

“I didn’t necessarily say today.”

 

Neil pulls back indigidantly. Now, when he’s already half-hard from the mere thought, he remembers that Andrew didn’t promise the next day. He just said sometime this weekend. Disappointment and annoyance mingle in his chest, an ugly mix of emotions which leave him sighing.

 

Then, Andrew’s eyes go a little softer, lips daring to tilt up. They only move the smallest amount, not enough to be labelled a smile, but it’s very much enough. The slightest microexpression always leaves Neil’s heart beating in an odd rhythm.

 

“Relax. We can do it today.” Andrew rubs a hand across Neil’s lip, as if wiping away the disappointment. “You’re a drama queen.”

 

Half-tempted to say _you like it_ , Neil just looks at him. He looks at his bare arms, the crisscrossing scars which he doesn’t bother to hide when they come here. He looks at his eyebrows, which are so often knitted together in a scowl. Neil looks at the faint freckles which are barely noticeable unless up close.

 

“Too much time with Kevin,” Neil replies eventually, once he’s gotten over how nice Andrew looks against white pillows and blankets.

 

“At least Kevin doesn’t fucking stare at me.”

 

Neil laughs. Andrew kicks him out of the bed.

 

For breakfast, they have coffee and toast, Andrew lathering an unholy amount of butter on his own and leaving Neil’s plain. All whilst he eats, Neil catches glimpses of how his jaw works, how he licks his lips after every few bites to catch any stray crumbs. Andrew can do absolutely anything and Neil will be in awe for days afterwards. They drink their coffee in mostly silence, an odd comment here or there. Neil tells him that his mother didn’t like coffee, something about how his father used it to burn her once; Andrew responds with an equally ugly truth, how Drake used to bring him coffee the morning after, just to get a look at him. The honesty always makes the air simmer with discomfort, but it is promptly pushed away as Andrew finishes his coffee and kisses him.

 

The kiss begins soft. After a few seconds, fuelled by Andrew’s hands reaching down to cup his ass through his sweatpants, it becomes heated, more teeth and tongue. Andrew’s tongue is hot and familiar, brushing across Neil’s in a practised manner. Hands dig into the flesh of his thighs, prompting them upwards - Neil takes the hint and lets Andrew lift him. It’s always effortless, as if Neil weighs nothing. He runs his hands over Andrew’s biceps, admiring the swell of the muscle whilst simultaneously kissing him. There’s a brief pause, in which Andrew pulls back just to check whether the _yes_ is still present in Neil’s eyes, and whatever he sees there makes him rejoin their lips with more force than before. Craning his neck like that can’t be comfortable. Like most things that are bad for him, Andrew does it anyway.

 

“Can we try that thing now?”

 

As if pretending to think about, Andrew pauses, although the decision was made yesterday. The suspense of waiting for an answer becomes almost painful. Finally, Andrew kisses him again, punctuating it with a, “Yes.”

 

He doesn’t quite cheer, but the noise Neil makes is embarrassing enough for his face to flush red.

 

“But I’m not carrying your ass up the stairs.”

 

“Bet you could.”

 

“I’m not saying I couldn’t.” Andrew’s glare would be convincing if he didn’t follow the words with a kiss. “I just don’t want to.”

 

Although Neil would love to be carried up the stairs, he still drops fluidly to his feet and turns on his heel. He wants to say ‘Race you there!’ but remembers that Andrew isn’t Kevin or Matt. He won’t want to race anywhere. Andrew only runs during warm-ups and occasionally at the gym if he decides to accompany Neil at a treadmill. Neil still runs to the bedroom, though, excitement fizzling through his veins and splintering through his chest. The soft noise of Andrew’s feet following him does nothing to stop it.

 

The bed was lazily made when they went down for breakfast. A few ruffled sheets don’t matter when Neil sits in the middle, feeling suddenly overdressed in his loose top and pants. He waits for Andrew before doing anything. He places his hands on his stomach and half-sits and half-lies, head propped up by the pillows. The room seems strangely empty and boring until Andrew walks in, immediately bringing a sense of life with him. Maybe that’s why he likes this house in Colombia so much. It’s not because of the actual house, no matter how expensive it is or how great the architecture is, but because of who is in this house. Neil’s never been here without Andrew before. He doesn’t ever want to. It will shatter this great illusion that Colombia easily cures any of his worries.

 

Affection pulses through him at the sight of him. He’s so fucking pretty when he’s like this, trying to hide his arousal and all relaxed. It’s much better than blank-faced, angry Andrew, although Neil has got a deep-rooted affection for any type of Andrew there could possibly be.

 

It seems to take an age for Andrew to come to the bed. He goes under the bed to get something - a bag, it seems. Neil’s mind jumps to filthy things, but he manages to reign it in before it slips from his reach and he ends up saying something completely stupid. After a second of staring at it, Andrew climbs onto the bed, settling between Neil’s legs.

 

They start with kissing, easing gradually into nudity. Neil lets Andrew tug his shirt over his head and shimmies out of his pants so he’s only in underwear. When Andrew pulls off his own shirt, Neil can’t resist but to run his eyes over the sight in front of him. Andrew’s skin is pale and soft - surprisingly so, seeing as his hands are calloused and rough. An odd flutter of emotion surfaces and Neil reaches out to touch, to run his hands across the expanse of skin in front of him, the muscles which ripple across his skin. He’s had years to look at Andrew like this, but he isn’t over the sight. He doubts he ever will be.

 

After a few minutes of mindless kissing, Andrew pulls back. Somehow, he manages to look completely composed. Neil feels loose-limbed and giddy already.

 

The bed dips when Andrew climbs off. The silence is filled with breathing and the rustle of the bag.

 

“So.” Neil tries to swallow. His throat has gone unnaturally dry. “What did you have in mind?”

 

Andrew looks like he wants to tell Neil to shut up, but he doesn’t, and it preserves the shiny newness of this moment. He reaches one hand into the bag and pulls out something. At first, Neil has got no idea what he’s looking at, but it clicks into place after a few long seconds. A vibrator.

 

It’s … well, surprising.

 

He’s never really thought about it. The only association he’s ever had with one was when Allison was talking about buying a new one on one of their shopping trips where Neil often comes back with about eighteen new outfits and a haircut. That made him flush and Allison had laughed, called him awkward. And it’s true. He feels spectacularly awkward right now, soothed only by Andrew’s cool gaze.

 

It’s times like these he feels so utterly clueless. Andrew is the only person he’s ever touched sexually and has ever _wanted_ to touch sexually, but he can’t help but feel like no match for Andrew’s experience. It’s funny how crowds of reporters and Exy fans don’t do much to him yet the simple suggestion of something new like this causes his stomach to clench nervously. Punching an opposing backliner in front of a whole stadium isn’t half as nerve wracking as Andrew’s eyes flickering between him and the object in his hands.

 

Andrew notices his apprehensive looks and drops his hand. Gaze sharp, he asks, “Is it a no?”

 

“No!” Neil says, managing to trip over the single word in his haste. “No, it’s not.”

 

“Then what?” Andrew asks, eyes careful as they watch him. New steps are always taken cautiously.

 

“I just … I’ve never … I don’t …”

 

At an uncharacteristic loss for words, Neil just sighs. Andrew takes his chin in his hands and kisses him, each slide of his tongue shooting shivers through him. Once back in familiar territory, Neil tries again.

 

“I’ve never done it before.”

 

“That’s fine.” Andrew pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s turning over a problem in his head. It takes a second, but he says, “I haven’t either.”

 

A vulnerability exchanged for a vulnerability. This is new for both of them, something they can explore together.

 

“Neil.” When he meets Andrew’s eyes, they are dark.

 

“It’s a yes.” Shoving down any lingering nerves, Neil pushes his boxers off. His cock is half-hard already, and Andrew raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say _really_? But Neil doesn’t care. He sets his knees apart either side of Andrew and lies back onto the pillows, completely on display. “It’s definitely a yes.”

 

Andrew scoots forwards so he is intensely closer. A few more centimetres and Neil’s thighs would be resting over his. He remains a small distance away, close enough to touch with his hands. A thumb brushes against Neil’s inner thigh. Every inch of his skin seems to be incredibly sensitized to the smallest of touches. If it was anybody else, Neil would think it was a touch for the sake of being soft. But Andrew does everything for a reason; that single touch is a consolation. _I’m here_ , he is saying.

 

For a second, Andrew just looks at him. Whether he likes the sight of Neil sprawled out like this or not, it’s never obvious. Andrew has mastered keeping his expression blank. The only betrayal of his apathy is the hitch in his breathing and the slight tent in his pants.

 

There’s the feel of a calloused hand stroking him to full hardness. It doesn’t take long. He lets himself get lost in the feeling, the slow-build of pleasure curling his toes. Only when moans start to slip from his lips does Andrew stop, instead leaning down and pressing a kiss to his knee. Another reassurance.

 

There’s a faint click, followed by a faint buzzing. Neil arches his back, pushing himself towards Andrew. The wait is almost unbearable. He closes his eyes and lets out a ragged sort of noise, an unspoken _do it_ , but he is not expecting what he gets. Andrew keeps one hand strongly gripping Neil’s raised knee. The other hand pushes the vibrator against the head of Neil’s cock. The noise he makes is possibly the most embarrassing thing he’s ever done. It scrapes from his throat, almost sounding pained. His hands fist in the sheets and his groan peters out into a faint whimper. The faint thrum of pleasure from earlier has rocketed into something intense. Why is this the first time they've tried this?

 

" _Fuck_ ," he says, trying to to push his hips up and get more, more, _more_ ...

 

Then it all stops. Andrew pulls the vibrator away. Neil shoots up onto his elbows, looking down, breathing raggedly. Andrew is looking at him poorly concealed wonder, eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort. Maybe the startled moan had sounded like that.

 

“Can you …” Neil asks weakly. “Can you do it again?”

 

The next press is somehow better, accompanied by fingers steadily stroking at the base of his dick. The vibrations pulse through him, and Neil moans again, this time a few curses mumbled alongside it. Whenever Andrew touches him, he ends up going mad, losing grip on reality and letting himself fall. Now feels like one of those times; Neil can feel composure slipping dangerously through his fingers. If Andrew carries on doing this, he’s going to be unable to move for the rest of the day.

 

“Andrew, yes, yes, _oh_ \- fuck. Fuck.”

 

“Open your eyes,” Andrew says lowly. Neil hadn’t even realised they were closed. “Look at me.”

 

Andrew looks thoroughly turned on now, much less subtle than before. His pupils are blown and he is staring down at Neil like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on him. Neil doesn’t squirm away from the stare, instead looks right back, battling the ugly flush which is crawling up his body. He looks from Andrew to his cock, which is hard and leaking and wrapped obscenely in Andrew’s hand. The vibrator is still buzzing, just at a much lower setting. The fireworks dim down to a slight crackle, but his orgasm is slowly mounting, tugging at him.

 

“I’m going to finger y -”

 

The sentence isn’t even finished before Neil is saying, “Yes, _yes_ , I want that.”

 

Andrew looks annoyed. The anger doesn’t have the desired effect when he’s so turned on, though. In the same bag at the vibrator, he reaches in and brings out a small, black bottle. Just the sight of it punches the air out of him.

 

Cold, lube-slicked fingers prod at him, slipping in easily after a few pushes. The memory of Andrew inside of him is welcomed by his body, relaxing enough so Andrew’s fingers can reach the knuckle with no resistance. Before he’s even had chance to voice is request - he gets to “Can you” - Andrew is switching the vibrator back on and pressing it against him. The vibrator is wrapped inside Andrew’s grip and it pushes against the swollen vein on the underside of his cock, clamped tightly against him with no chance of movement. All Neil can do is writhe. Some time ago, he would have been embarrassed to fall apart quite so desperately underneath Andrew’s eyes. Neil is aware he looks like a mess. There’s something warm dripping down the side of his mouth; he thinks it’s saliva.

 

“Fuck. Fuck, _oh_ , Jesus, Andrew …”

 

Praise and curses string together into a huge mumbling speech, until his voice starts to become hoarse. Andrew twists his fingers inside of him just right. He arches his back further, sending a flicker of pain through his body at being bent so oddly. But it is promptly washed away by the lightning strike of pleasure, the hot bullet of ecstasy which rolls over him.

 

He wants to look up and see Andrew right now, see if he’s enjoying this as much as the tight grip on Neil’s cock says he is, but his eyes are far too busy rolling into the back of his head. So is the rest of his body. One of his hands has wandered to his hair, tugging at the unruly curls in hope to get his mind working. Everything has gone pleasantly numb. All except for his cock. And his ass. The bottom half of his body is on fire, burning, blazing, the flames consuming every ounce of energy he’s ever possessed.

 

There’s a noise from above him resembling a groan. He cranes his head up and catches sight of Andrew fighting against a flush, his cock straining against the fabric of his sleep pants. Neither had bothered to change into proper clothes when they woke up this morning. _Doesn’t matter,_ Neil thinks. _They’ll be off soon enough_.

 

“Gonna come, Andrew, gonna come,” he warns. Honestly, he’s surprised he can still speak. It’s difficult to think straight with the vibrator buzzing madly against him. “Fuck, I’m so _close -_ ”

 

And, much to Neil’s distress, Andrew pulls his hand away.

 

“What?” he asks, almost hysterical. He’s teetering close to the edge, maddeningly so.

 

“Wait.”

 

Andrew says it so simply. As if it’s easy. Truthfully, Neil’s mentally applauding himself for not reaching down and finishing himself off, a few quick jerks of his wrist until he’s coming and _coming_.

 

Andrew switches the vibrator off. The air goes silent in absence of the humming and Neil’s moaning.

 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asks lowly, voice roughened with obvious arousal. For a brief second, Neil wonders what he’s asking to do. That’s when he feels the switched-off vibrator trailing down his dick, skimming over his balls and onto his ass, prodding at his entrance alongside Andrew’s fingers. Oh. _Oh._

 

“Andrew, yes, yes, _yes_.”

 

The fingers slide out easily, swiftly replaced with the vibrator. It slides in and out a few times, the lube making a gross squelching noise. Well, it’s gross when Neil isn’t insanely turned on; right now, that noise is the promise of a mind shattering orgasm.

 

Nothing really happens for a second. Neil loosens his white-knuckled grip on the sheets, letting his muscles uncoil all whilst remaining painfully aware of his erection. He takes a glance at Andrew, who is looking at him, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any hazel left behind. Then, deliberately taking his time, Andrew presses something. The vibrator turns on.

 

Neil would like to think he had more compsure than he actually did. Sensibility flies out of the window - no, sensibility _throws_ itself from the window, because it’s fucking _in_ him and he’s going to come, this is it, he’s going to come so hard and pass out and _never wake up again._

 

“ _Shit_! Oh, I’m close, I’m close, I’m -”

 

One of Andrew’s hands pushes it further into him, establishing a determined rhythm of in and out, in and out. The other hand is shoved down his pants, jerking himself roughly as he watches the scene in front of him. Another grunt comes from Andrew. Neil rocks back onto the vibrator, muscles clenching as he feels the familiar wave creep up over him. He tries to hold on for as long as he can. It’s difficult.  There’s no hands to touch Neil’s cock - he knows that a simple stroke would have him spiralling into orgasm, so he leaves it. He lets the vibrations carry him until he is groaning animalistically, Andrew’s name tumbling from his lips.

 

“I need - I can’t come - not without -”

 

Without complaint, Andrew leans forwards and slides his mouth over Neil’s cock. That’s all it takes. He comes _hard_ , the thick spirals landing on his stomach, some getting on the sheets. It doesn’t take long for Andrew to follow, his hand moving rapidly and then stilling. Whenever he comes he is silent, although there’s a muscle in his jaw which clenches. Neil wants to reach out and touch it, touch his face, touch him, _kiss_ him, thank him …

 

He wants to, but he can’t. Everything aches.

 

Andrew slides the vibrator out. Neil heaves a shuddering breath, one which hurts. He feels like if he looks down, his whole body will be covered in bruises from the sheer force of that.

 

“Andrew … that was … fuck … _wow_.”

 

Andrew gently bites the skin on his thigh. He asks Neil the same questions he does every time - “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” - and Neil answers each one passionately. _No, it doesn’t hurt. Yes, I am okay. I am more than okay. That was fucking brilliant._

 

Next time Andrew says “I want to try something”, Neil knows there will be no hesitation involved.  
  
  
  



End file.
